Could someone clear that shit away, please? It's just, it's in my picture. People may associate it with me.

Let me tell you something about the Titanic, people forget, people forget that on the Titanic's maiden voyage there were over 1000 miles of uneventful, very pleasurable cruising before it hit the iceberg!

Well at this stage of the show, some of my viewers maybe thinking "Alan, You're a liar! You promised that this show would be hot and now you're chatting to three senior citizens." But if I said I am now going to jump into a TARDIS, go back in time and recreate the Berlin Olympics with these three old women, you'd say "Alan, that is hot, we were wrong earlier."

You join us live at the Berlin Olympics on "Grandstand" in 1938 on this pleasant summer morning in Nazi Germany. Everyone's here. Hitler's in his box, Jesse Owens just waved to him. He doesn't like that.

You're not ordinary, you're French!

You're sacked! You are sacked, I'm sacking you. In fact, it's happened, it's over, it's already happened, you are a sacked man. You've been sacked. You're the subject of a sacking, I want you off these premises in 10 minutes. Knowing me, Alan Partridge, sacking you, Glenn Ponder. A-ha!

Throughout the questions I will be remaining impartial at all times. I will remain Pontius Partridge.

You know what this room says to me? Aqua. Which is French for water. It's like being inside an enormous Fox's Glacier Mint, which again, to me, is a bonus.

Would you like me to lap dance for you?

A detective series based in Norwich called "Swallow". Swallow is a detective who tackles vandalism. Bit of a maverick, not afraid to break the law if he thinks it's necessary. He's not a criminal, you know, but he will, perhaps, travel 80mph on the motorway if, for example, he wants to get somewhere quickly...Think about it. No one had heard of Oxford before Inspector Morse.

Monkey Tennis?

Smell my cheese, you mother!

That was Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell, a song in which Joni complains they 'Paved paradise to put up a parking lot', a measure which actually would have alleviated traffic congestion on the outskirts of paradise, something which Joni singularly fails to point out, perhaps because it doesn't quite fit in with her blinkered view of the world. Nevertheless, nice song.

Let battle commence!

If you see a lovely field with a family having a picnic, and there's a nice pond in it, you fill in the pond with concrete, you plough the family into the field, you blow up the tree, and use the leaves to make a dress for your wife who's also your brother.

Jurassic Park!

I’m 47, my girlfriend's 33; she's 14 years younger than me: Back of the net!

Britain has some of the safest roads in Europe. But this isn't Britain...This is der Autobahn!

Right, I'll tell you an anecdote. In 1974 I was catching the London train from Crewe station. It was very crowded; I found myself in a last-minute rush for the one remaining seat beside a tall, good-looking man with collar-length hair, it was the seventies; buckaroo! I looked up and saw it was none other than Peter Purves, it was the height of his Blue Peter career. He said, "You jammy bastard" and quick as a flash, I replied, "Don't be blue, Peter!" Needless to say, I had the last laugh, now fuck off!

I realised I had nothing to worry about. The man was a perfect gentleman. But if you told me 25 years ago that I would be talking about rigid inflatable hulls with Dale Winton I would probably have spat at you.

I would've taken it off sooner but I was having a fascinating conversation with the proud father of Norfolk's most sun-tanned child. Just passed his details on to the Social Services.

Later we'll be taking dedications for anyone wrongly turned down for planning permission. Also, I'll be asking: Which is the worst monger? Fish, iron, rumour or war?

Never, never criticise Muslims. Only Christians. And Jews a little bit.

That was soft rock cocaine enthusiasts, Fleetwood Mac.

Lynn, get rid of her. She's a drunk racist. I'll tolerate one, but not both.

Do I look like I suffer from panic attacks? I've had one panic attack in a car wash. It was a perfect storm of no sleep, no wife, and angry brushes whirring towards me. By the time the giant hair dryer came on, I was in the footwell.

Let's not get into who hit who or, you know, who may have deserved it.

I'm not retreating, Pat's tugging me off.

As far as I'm concerned, Neil Diamond will always be King of the Jews.